


Back to You

by venis_envy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death, basically just word vomit, drabble-type thing, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 09:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2145384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venis_envy/pseuds/venis_envy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s so much pain. Everything hurts, and Stiles can’t push his way back into consciousness, can’t reach his hands out or call for help. He's got no control of his body, no control of his thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of fic things shoved into the corners of my hard drive. I dusted this one off to play around with it tonight. 
> 
> Unbetad, kind of word-vomity. Written and, surprisingly, posted from my phone.

**“You know when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out. It’s called voluntary apnea. It’s like, no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding. Then when you finally do let it in...that’s when it stops hurting. It’s not scary anymore, it’s…it’s actually kind of peaceful.”**

~*~

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice is faint on the distant shoreline, but cuts through the night as forcefully as the darkness itself.

“He’s in the lake, _move!”_

There’s muffled footfalls, splashes of water. Stiles can’t see anything, can’t hold himself up anymore. His limbs are heavy and his lungs are burning. He’s losing blood, too, from where Kate's blade sliced through him, but he can’t think clearly enough to know which of his injuries is the worst. He’s so cold. 

His thoughts skip erratically as he slips in and out of consciousness. His struggle back to the surface seems harder and longer each time. The spike of adrenaline is being forced out of focus by the shrill ringing in his ears. And then there’s nothing but darkness.

~*~

_"I made you a surprise."_

_ The whole house smells of warm sugar.  _

_ Stiles drops his backpack by the door and rushes to his mom's side, hugs her leg before swiping a cookie off the plate she's holding down to him.  _

_ "Stiles got into a fight with a kid at school today," his dad says, coming through the door behind him.  _

_ "He smelled like tacos." Stiles hides a toothless grin behind his cookie.  _

_ "McCall's kid," the sheriff tells his wife.  _

~*~ 

There's a searing pain in his chest. Agonizing pressure that Stiles can't seem to fight against. Can't escape. He tries to take a breath, but his lungs won't cooperate, the air is too thick around him. Heavy, pressing against every inch of him. 

~*~ 

_Stiles tries to match his breathing to hers, the jagged huffs pushing out between dry, pale lips._

_ It isn't enough for him, so he stops, occupying his time instead with tapping his fingers on the edge of her bed along with the blips of the heart monitor.  _

_ When the broken tone doesn't pause anymore, when it's one long press of his fingers into the sheets, Stiles jumps to his feet, pushes the call button for the nurse. _

~*~ 

There’s so much pain. Everything hurts, and Stiles can’t push his way back into consciousness, can’t reach his hands out or call for help. He's got no control of his body, no control of his thoughts. 

"Get out of the way!" 

"Tilt his head back. You have to—" 

~*~ 

_Slats of light cut through the blinds, painting Derek's back in golden sunshine. Stiles watches as the eddies dance in the air, twisting and swirling in a mimic of Derek's tattoo._

_ The dust moats part as his hand comes down, presses against the hot skin of Derek's back.  _

_ "Are you watching me sleep again?" Derek murmurs, blinking blearily at Stiles. "That's creepy."  _

_ "Pot," Stiles says, leaning in to press a kiss to Derek's shoulder, "this is my friend, Kettle."  _

_ Derek laughs softly into his pillow. _

~*~ 

It feels like Stiles' chest is being slammed with a steel beam, blunt pain that radiates through his entire body over and over. 

He tries to protest, to yell for it to stop. The pain slides away again, and Stiles is relieved. 

~*~ 

_“Does it hurt?” Allison asks, reaching down to take Stiles’ hand. “Drowning?”_

_ Stiles stares at her blankly, can’t sort out how to answer that question, or how she’s even here to ask it.  _

_ “If there’s pain,” she continues without Stiles’ response, “it means it’s not over.”  _

~*~ 

A flair of agony bursts inside him, sparks of light exploding behind his eyelids. 

"It's working. Keep going, Derek! His hand just moved. I think he's coming back to us."

~*~ 

_He rakes his fingers through Derek's hair, tilts his head back to deepen the kiss._

_ He tastes like cupcakes and summertime, all the things Stiles associates with happiness.  _

_ Derek. Happy.  _

_ Stiles breaks the kiss with a laugh. It's a giddy, elated sort of sound that bubbles up out of nowhere as he hides his face against Derek's neck.  _

_ "What's so funny?" Derek asks, slipping his hands down the back of Stiles' jeans, squeezing his ass as he pulls him closer.  _

_ "You love me," Stiles says. It's a brand new revelation, and it's even more funny that he didn't notice before now.  _

_ "You're an idiot," Derek says. But he kisses him anyway, licks the smile from Stiles' lips and it's all the confirmation he needs.  _

~*~ 

There’s growling, snarling curses and hissed breaths of desperation. 

Stiles feels a pressure against his chest, constant and heavy. It wanes a little before slamming into him again. He can’t move away from it. 

“Don’t _touch_ him!” 

He thinks that’s Derek’s voice, but Stiles can’t be sure. There’s too much. Too much _everything_ and not enough air. 

~*~ 

_"You can stay, you know? If you want to."_

_ Stiles doesn't remember ever seeing so much gold in Allison's hair. The sun seems to be shining on it everywhere, shimmering like waves of amber in the silky brown locks. It's mesmerizing, and Stiles has no idea why.  _

_ He meets her gaze and she smiles at him brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. They seem to lighten to a pale honey color, and Stiles squints in confusion, holds his breath as the familiarity of those eyes sinks in.  _

_ When Stiles' vision pans out, it isn't Allison's face he's looking at anymore.  _

_ "Mom?"  _

_ "Shh," she whispers, pressing a palm to Stiles' cheek. "You're okay here. We've got you."  _

_Stiles sinks into her welcoming embrace, images of Derek flickering through his mind._

~*~ 

"Please, Stiles. I need you." 

It's the sound of his voice, strained and full of sorrow that drags Stiles out, brings him back to a cold, painful reality.

Stiles chokes, sputters on a mouthful of water and thick sludge. Fingers press painfully to his head, shifting him around and tipping his face to the side. 

Every muscle in his body is on fire, and there's so much coming out of his mouth that it doesn't seem like it'll ever stop.  He chokes again, frantically tries to pull in air between wet, garbled heaves.

Stiles' arms are trembling, barely able to hold him as he scrambles in the dirt and weeds, turns himself over and throws up more of the cool lake water. 

"Derek," Stiles manages to get out. His hand grabs clumsily for the arm he feels around his waist. 

"I'm here, I'm here." Another arm circles around Stiles, pulling him up to his knees, and he feels the warm press of Derek's chest against his back, the thundering beat of his heart matching Stiles' own. "You're okay." 

There's a shrill cry of a siren in the distance. 

"Don't leave me," he says, then tightens his grip on Derek's arms as he gasps for breath. 

It was close, Stiles knows. Maybe closer than he'll ever be able to tell anyone. Stiles almost died tonight. But the thought of leaving Derek here, broken and alone after all they've been through together... 

He doesn't let go of Derek's arm as they load him into the ambulance, and the sheriff has to explain to the EMTs that it's okay. 

"He's his...well, he's _his._ Just let him ride in the damn ambulance with my son."

Stiles dozes off before the doors are even closed, Derek's forehead pressed to his, their fingers laced together.

He doesn't dream this time. He knows he's right where he belongs.  


End file.
